


Beneath the Surface

by lanalucy



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Community: wishlist_fic, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, F/M, Frak Buddies, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Minor Character Death, POV First Person, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-02
Updated: 2014-12-02
Packaged: 2018-02-26 22:57:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2669516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanalucy/pseuds/lanalucy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary</b>: Are people always who you think they are?<br/><b>Prompt/Prompter</b>: Kara/Karl or Kara, Karl -- however your muse wants to play it -- are known as the king and queen of practical jokes and hijinks at the Academy. What tricks do they play? What trouble do they get into? What do they learn, about themselves, each other, life, anything, along the way? <b>singerdiva01_sk</b><br/><b>Warnings</b>: canon-like references to PTSD, mild references to offscreen sex<br/><b>Disclaimer</b>: RDM said we could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beneath the Surface

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to newnumbertwo and laura_mayfair for being my beta village!

The first time they got caught, only Kara Thrace got demerits. The CO in question was a fellow Aquarian who refused to believe Karl Agathon’s confession as an accomplice. 

It didn’t seem to affect their friendship any. They continued to razz each other night and day about who was the better pyramid player or the faster runner or whether raptors or vipers were better. Raptors, clearly, but I’d never let on in front of Kara Thrace.

When they weren’t debating those points or getting into trouble - which mostly meant Kara Thrace in cadet detention or cleaning bathrooms, because Karl seemed to have an innate gift for leaving at just the right moment to avoid detection, and Kara _never_ gave him away - it was obvious to anyone watching that the tendrils of a rock-solid friendship were taking root. Flourishing, even. Where you found one, you found the other - class, pyramid, gym, triad tables, or the local pilot bar. And yes, when Kara got stuck cleaning the heads in the athletic complex, Karl was in there with her, easy grin on his face, taking the punishment he’d earned but not gotten.

That first year, their pranks cost Kara one hundred eighty-seven demerits (that was the rumor, anyway) and twenty-two nights in the cadet version of the brig.

The first week of the second year, Kara Thrace was nowhere to be found, and fellow cadets quickly learned asking the normally easygoing Karl Agathon where that troublemaker was earned them a frown and a cold shoulder. The second week, Kara Thrace showed up as if she’d been there the whole time, and she sported healing bruises, a black eye, stitches on her forehead, and a gigantic chip on her shoulder.

She’d as soon punch a person as look at them, and except for the instructors, everyone learned to leave Kara Thrace alone. Only Karl Agathon stuck by her, and her rare smiles were reserved for him alone. If Karl wasn’t around to buffer her temper, she worked out and ran and practiced pyramid alone. More than once, I stood just outside the door of the gym, peeking around the corner to see who was in there.

Kara got into trouble off-campus a lot more, drinking more, frakking anything with a penis, including a couple of instructors (again, that was the rumor), and though her academic record held up somehow, her disciplinary file could be used as a doorstop.

Then came the infamous Thrace-Agathon blowup, which I personally witnessed. I didn’t see what started it, but they were playing pool and then they were yelling at each other. I’d never even heard Karl Agathon raise his voice before. Anyway, yelling escalated to ugly insults, then Kara picked up a ball and threw it at Karl’s head. Thank gods for his reflexes, or he’d have had a broken nose at the very least. All that pyramid practice, she had very good aim.

Karl stood there for a moment, staring at Kara and shaking his head. He turned to leave, and Kara Thrace - no lie - crumpled to the ground and started crying. He stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. I could see how torn he was between leaving or going back for her.

Because he’s Karl Agathon, and a more stand-up guy never existed, he wiped his hands down his face and went back. He knelt down and pulled her into a hug. Kara practically flew into his arms and they sat there like that long enough people were giving them looks and the whole bar was getting a weird vibe. Kara wiped her face and Karl said something too softly for anyone else to hear. She nodded and he stood up, pulling her with him. 

He put an arm around her shoulders and we all watched them walk out, the crowd parting around them as if they were contagious plague-carriers. I know at least a couple of people watched out the door; I wasn’t close enough, and I like to think I’m better than that.

A week passed and it seemed like nothing had changed. Kara was still prickly with everyone, and the tension between the two of them was like an entity unto itself. Then one morning I saw Karl in the corridor sporting a bruise high up on his neck, and an hour later, Kara in the same corridor looking as relaxed as I’d ever seen her. She still wasn’t friendly; that took some time.

Maybe no one else figured it out - no one ever talked about it, anyway - but I did. Karl Agathon took one for the team, so to speak. Kara Thrace needed an outlet for her anger, and he was there for her the way he’d been for everything else since they’d met in boot camp. For the rest of our academic careers (and I’m pretty sure that’s how long they were frakking), Kara Thrace was a model cadet, though not necessarily always a joy to be around.

It wasn’t until fourth year, while I was doing research for a paper, I found out what had happened. Kara’s mother had died, and not by accident. She’d been beating the frak out of Kara one day, and Kara pushed her away trying to escape. Unfortunately for Socrata Thrace, there was a window behind her, and she didn’t get her balance before crashing through it backward. She didn’t die right away, and Kara had missed the first week of school that year.

It made me look at everything I’d ever known about Kara Thrace in a whole new way. Coincidentally finding that old news story is the reason I went into the psych field. It’s the reason I’ve advocated for free counseling, anonymous if necessary, for all our cadets. It’s the reason at least three people I know of are still alive.

Thank gods for Kara Thrace. And for Karl Agathon. I wonder where they are now.


End file.
